Troubled Mind
by godessofthelonely888
Summary: A flash through Mycroft and Lestrade's first meeting, some times in between, and then how they go to lunch. Sorry for the crappy summary, but it's late. This story is Mycroft and fem!Lestrade.


_**Troubled Mind**_

Mycroft was dumbfounded. He had never met an honest police officer who stood for what they believed in, and actually challenged him. He was the government to them, even if he honestly really didn't have as much control as everyone thought he did. Normally they would close their idiotic little mouths and _do what he told them to_, and that's what he _liked_. So when he met the DI Lestrade, well, she gave his little world quite the spin.

The first time that Mycroft met DI Lestrade, she had still been the Mrs, and not the Ms. She had called him after getting his number out of a high Sherlock who had crashed her scene, struggling to keep his words coherent as he solved the case right in front of them, helping them lock up the villain. Lestrade had still arrested him, and contacted Mycroft on his behalf since he was baked. Mycroft came to the Yard immediately, scowling as he walked in.

Lestrade had glanced up as a man in a suit had walked in, and she glanced towards the Holmes boy. "Are you Mycroft?" She asked, eying him a bit. He was somewhat handsome, and he dressed well, but for some reason, she got a feeling about him...

"Yes. I do believe my brother has been... a bit of trouble." He said quietly, voice a bit cold. Lestrade's brows furrowed a bit, and she shrugged.

"He solved a case. He was useful. He's a genius, really. I just don't get how someone with a mind like that is sitting in my cell, baked from heroin and probably some other things as well. Haven't been able to take a sample, yet." She said, giving a look to Mycroft.

"Perhaps." Is all Mycroft answered with, and he almost smirked at her annoyed look of not really getting much of a response. Almost. His mother taught him manners, however, unlike most of these crude people. He handed her a pristine piece of paper from a folder, "If you wouldn't mind fetching him, I must be taking him home."

"What makes you think that yo-"

Mycroft immediately cut her off, "Read the paper, and you'll have your answer. Now, my brother." He insisted, his tone bordering an order. He wanted to leave and get out of here, then criticize his brother, try to set him straight.

Lestrade glowered, then looked at the paper. Was he serious?! "You disgust me." She said with a stuck up nose, before walking over to the keys, grabbing them from the desk and gong to Sherlock's cell, "Your brother is here."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade with a uncaring look, "Tell him I'll be staying here." He answered, unmoving.

Mycroft appeared at the entrance of the cell, looking at him. "Get up, I'm taking you home." He said without any hesitation in his voice, an order. "Don't cause yourself further embarrassment."

Lestrade frowned. If Sherlock didn't want to go home with him, then he didn't have to, did he? He was a legal adult.

"I'm not going with you." Sherlock huffed, turning to face the other way, staring at the wall as if it could entertain him.

"Sherlock Holmes, get up." Mycroft ordered, calculating eyes on him. He knew in a few seconds he would get up once he realized that once more Mycroft would wait until he came with him.

"Listen, if he doesn't want to go with you, then he doesn't have to." Lestrade said, "You can't make him go anywhere with you if he doesn't want." She said, crossing her arms.

Mycroft turned his attention to her, "He is my brother, DI, so kindly keep to your own business."

"As far as I am concerned, he's still in my jail." She answered immediately without batting an eye. "And he's a free man, so his big bad brother can't tell him to do anything."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade with amusement in his eyes, "I'll go home if she takes me." He said, wondering how irate he could make his brother.

Mycroft's head snapped toward Sherlock, "You can't be serious."

Sherlock nodded, then looked to Lestrade. "What do you say?"

Lestrade looked between the brothers. Sherlock was an interesting character, but she really didn't like the look of Lestrade. Within seconds she grabbed her over jacket and shrugged it on, "Let's go. I'm almost off anyway, I'll just clock off a few minutes early." She murmured, nodding to Sherlock. She eyed Mycroft as if asking him to challenge her. If the man she had arrested was going to get out free because of his disgusting brother's dirty politician hands, then she was at least going to make sure he was fine when he hot home.

That was the first impression from both Mycroft and Lestrade. While Mycroft had been annoyed and anxious about his brother, he was also surprised by the young hot blooded DI, who obviously had been a DI for too long, though she had the ability. Lestrade, however, loathed him. He was another stuck up politician, and she didn't feel he would ever be trustworthy.

Several years passed, and Mycroft rarely ever even saw the DI, although a few times he saw her name in the headlines because of cases that had been solved, his brothers name mentioned a few times as well. Since Mycroft kept tabs on everyone Sherlock knew, he had since learned that Gregg Lestrade had become a single woman, her partner having cheated on her countless times. She had grown into her career quite well, and also became someone who Sherlock had relied on other than Mycroft in his time of needs. Mycroft would say Lestrade and Sherlock had a unique relationship, and each was very fond of each other, though in a parent child like way.

So when the DI called his personal cellular, he could honestly say he was surprised. "Holmes speaking." He answered, jotting a few things down and signing his name on a few papers placed on his desk, phone between his shoulder and his ear.

"Sherlock's OD. He's in the hospital right now hooked up to an HIV. Thought you might like to know. Charing Cross Hospital." She informed, then hanging up the phone before Mycroft even had the opportunity to say anything.

Mycroft stood up quickly, knocking his chair down. After a few seconds he had fixed it and was on his way out, getting into one of his black vehicles and making his driver speed the whole way there. Once he reached the hospital he walked inside in a calm manner, asked which room his baby brother was in, then made his way.

When Mycroft walked in, he was greeted wit the pale and sickly thin Sherlock, with Lestrade holding his hand, staring intently at his face. "He was passed out in the bathroom of his flat, half way on the tub, half off." She said, not even looking at Mycroft. "I haven't been able to get him to eat much lately, and what he has eaten, I'm thinking he's thrown up. He's skinnier than he should be." She said, running a hand through her hair.

Mycroft sat down on the chair next to her, crossing a leg over the other, then staring at him. "I made sure to get rid of his normal drug dealers anywhere near his home, and I've kept surveillance on him. I don't know where he keeps getting it, and it isn't in his flat." Mycroft informed her. "There isn't much more I can do to stop this from happening."

Silence filled the room other than the beep beep from the hospital machines, and the steady rise and fall as small breaths were heard from Sherlock. Lestrade looked to Mycroft, "I'm not going to blame you for this, but perhaps instead of invading on his privacy, he might do better if you would act more like a normal brother, Mycroft. If you were physically there and supportive of him, instead of remaining aloof and unattached." She said, glancing at him.

Mycroft scowled, "Neither Sherlock or myself are fond of... emotions. They're a deadly thing to have, Lestrade, and Sherlock understands that."

Lestrade quickly turned to him, "Maybe that's because you haven't been compassionate enough! I can't think of anything that would drive him to do these things." She said, the worry and concern showing clear in her eyes.

Mycroft forced himself to remain calm as always, "Sometimes, there does not have to be a driving force, Lestrade, and do not forget that." He said, almost a bit waspishly. "Have you thought that perhaps we had been fine before his escapade?" He questioned.

Lestrade fell silent, "I apologize... I'm simply worried." She said softly, almost a whisper as she resumed looking to Sherlock, waiting for him to wake up.

Mycroft frowned, "As am I."

Silence once more lingered over the room, however, nothing broke that trance that it had taken over with. The two hardly even spared each other a look. At some point, Lestrade had fallen asleep in her chair, head resting on the bed, almost like how it was in all the shows everyone watched growing up.

Later on, Lestrade slowly sat up, yawning a bit. There was a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and no Mycroft to be seen. "He's gone home." Sherlock informed her. "After berating me. Honestly, you shouldn't have told him." Lestrade was about to make a remark when Sherlock continued in his speaking, "Also, you're hurting my hand. I think I've lost circulation considering you haven't let go once."

Lestrade flushed a bit, "Sorry." She replied sheepishly, letting go of his hand, before a more serious look took over her features, "What were you thinking? You could have died if I hadn't found you."

Sherlock hummed, "But you did." He answered, closing his eyes. "And you always have, so I haven't any need to worry." he answered with a yawn. His eyes flicked open, "Can you get a nurse to bring me some jello? The red kind?" He asked with innocent eyes.

Lestrade wanted to berate him herself, but after looking at him and those damned pleading eyes, she resigned herself to save it for a later date and began to search for a nurse to point her to the cafeteria or to get food for him.

The next time Mycroft had an actual chance to talk to the DI, it had been after Sherlock had met John, and they both were leaving the Christmas party. Mycroft looked over to see Lestrade trying to wave down a cab, before sighing. "Perhaps I could offer you a ride home?" He offered to her.

Lestrade stared at him a moment before nodding, "Yeah, that would be great." She replied, "Thanks, mate."

Mycroft nodded, and being the gentleman he was, he opened the door and allowed for her to slide in before climbing in his self. He told the driver the address, and Lestrade looked at him strangely. "Don't tell me you honestly know where I live?"

Mycroft's brows furrowed, "Of course I know where you live. I don't want Sherlock getting himself into more trouble than normal, so I always do background checks."

Lestrade simply sighed, "I should have known." She muttered mainly to herself, shaking her head. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, stifling a yawn. "Alright, then, if you know where I live, it's only fair that I know where you live." She said with a slight smirk.

Mycroft eyed her wearily a moment before telling her his address. Lestrade just stared, mouth open, "That's expensive over there!" She breathed, "Christ, I shouldn't be so surprised."

Mycroft just shrugged, "Expensive or not, it's where my home is." He answered, crossing a leg over. He looked out a window, his reflexes kicking in and twirling his umbrella. Lestrade felt the silence almost literally lingering in the air, quite awkwardly, and so she too looked out a window.

When Lestrade arrived at her flat, Mycroft walked out with her and lead her to the building door. He bade her goodnight when Lestrade just laughed a little, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have walked me to the door." She answered, pointing up to the mistletoe.

Mycroft frowned, "It's a silly tradition, we don't have to partake of it."

Lestrade immediately frowned, "That's just wrong. You'd be braking the rules." She answered, crossing her arms. "You don't mess with Christmas rules."

Mycroft simply stood there, both of them having a staring contest. "Fine." He answered after a moment or so. Lestrade just laughed again. Mycroft wondered if she had too much eggnog, though he hadn't seen her drink too much of it. With a sigh, Mycroft leaned forward as Lestrade leaned down. However, Lestrade turned just so and kissed his cheek instead. "Goodnight, Mycroft. Thanks for the ride."

Mycroft blinked a bit as he watched Lestrade enter her home. He stood there with hands in his pocket, then glared at the mistletoe. "Absolutely silly." He muttered, walking away, shaking his head.

It had been several weeks now, and Mycroft was staring off into the space, which had become a common occurrence since Christmas. Anthea looked at him a bit worriedly. "Are you alright, sir?"

Mycroft blinked, looked to her, then nodded. "Of course. Did you bring the reports?" Anthea laid them down on the desk, cast him a worried look, then walked out. Mycroft hummed a little as he looked over the details, storing everything away into the recess of his mind. Mycroft frowned as he felt his chest constricting in a strange way once more that he didn't really understand. Well, he understood, he just didn't understand _why_.

Every now and then the man had begun to think about Gregg Lestrade, and every time his chest pulled, as if trying to tell him something. He knew what it meant, though he wished he didn't. He'd rather not care at all, so why was he starting to feel something? He frowned, puzzled by his minds turn of thoughts. This wasn't supposed to happens. Feelings were a disadvantage, they could make you weak in an instance.

After debating with himself as he had done every day for the past few weeks, he finally pulled out his blackberry and began to click away with his thumbs.

Would you be interested in dining with me tomorrow for lunch? - MH

Lestrade looked down at her beeping phone as she ate away on a sandwich she had just bought for her lunch break, reading over the message. She reread it several times before tpying her answer.

Yes. When and where? - GL

Mycroft was almost startled by how fast she responded. He would have thought she would be busy. He read the message over, skimming.

At 13 hundred. The location is undecided today. I shall tell you tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening, inspector. - MH

Lestrade glanced at the message before pocketing her cell, taking another bite of her sandwich. This would be interesting. Different then the time he practically kidnapped her and interrogated her about getting information on Sherlock. She smiled as she remembered that day. It was the one time she allowed herself to slap him across the face, and it had felt rather nice.

When the morrow had arrived, both checked for the tiem constantly throughout the day. Mycroft wasn't nervous, merely curious, of course. Why would he ever be nervous? Lestrade, however, would look at the clock and each time she saw it getting closer to the time, her heart began to beat faster. This was ridiculous, it's just lunch!

The time had finally arrived, and Mycroft had sent Lestrade a text to tell her that he was outside waiting for her. They were driven to a restaurant, Mycroft didn't know where to take her, so he simply chose place he knew she would like, Antonio's. He knew she enjoyed the food and gone with Sherlock a few times when they had all been a few years younger.

They walked in and seated themselves at a table near the window. Both had taken out a menu and began to look over things as Antonio walked over, "Welcome! What's the lovely couple having to drink today?"

Lestrade looked up, blinking, "We're not a couple. And lemonade, please."

"Strawberry lemonade, please." Mycroft asked when Antonio looked at him.

Antonia gave a friendly nod before walking away with their order, and allowing them to continue to look at the menu. Lestrade glanced up at Mycroft several times, who had finally put his menu down and stared at her, catching her glance at him. "Is there something wrong?" He asked, a slight frown on his features.

Lestrade immediately shook her head, "No, not at all. I'm just... wondering why you asked me to lunch, really." She responded a bit shyly, though her voice never wavered nor showed her uncertainty.

Mycroft stared dead at her, making her squirm almost in her chair with the look he was giving. "I've asked you to lunch because I would enjoy your company, and getting to know you. My goal is to know you eventually on a personal level, if it is to be so."

Lestrade was almost taken aback. She hadn't quite expected such a straight answer, nor did she really know what to say. After a moment she just smiled at him, honestly, for one of the first times ever because of something he had said. "Alright." Lestrade smirked a bit and tapped his foot underneath the table with hers.

Mycroft felt himself relax just the slightest bit, his shoulders dropping a little, though it was practically unnoticeable, really.


End file.
